Me and My Matisse

By John Olski

Shallow to the wall yet broad as play, the office
project board – a kiddie pool with an Olympic
yawn to make me feel small jumping in.

Clip shapes to float and pin against a cork sky
like a building storm… whirl as a devil without
scheme for wrecking and repair, happy to be

unsure. Let space recraft all afternoon this way,
its ancient pace at odds with tabs and windows
of a hard drive year. Clock blades and scissors

parse it, tease apart one fact of me commuting
home at five, hands-to-the-wheel conjoined
with one more silhouette alive and more

creative to a world I’ve guarded, as though
earned – his health care premiums accordioned,
his annual review scalloped and fanned,

his I.R.A. shredded and twisted to a wild
bouquet, folds of his universe less
finished with the currency of promise.